


Eternal Wizard, Lady Warrior

by Kefalion



Series: All About Harry [18]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Corssover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Master of Death Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-22 08:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3723019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kefalion/pseuds/Kefalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earth was long the Realm of a week people. This has changed. Extraordinary individuals are appearing, drawing attention to this forgotten world. Harry Potter is one of the extraordinary individuals, having become more than a wizard. As a woman arrives on Earth on a quest to save it, he gets the chance to find answer to what he has become, and perhaps more. Harry/Lady Sif</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Magical Voice

**Author's Note:**

> This story is made by the request of starwater13 who has also graciously helped me write the story, being a wonderful beta. After seeing Thor 2 she wanted to see Lady Sif find happiness, and she asked me to create a story where she is paired with Harry as he is a bit like her, trying to live up to high expectations, while struggling to be himself, and they both always try to do what's right and protect the innocent. After watching Episode 15 of Marvel's Agents of SHIELD: Yes Men an idea where her request could be fulfilled was born.
> 
> At a first look this will look like it's a crossover with Agents of SHIELD, but just give it a bit of time and it will grow to concern more of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Being a wizard comes with a few advantages. The possibility of getting the guys together and going to Las Vegas for the day using a Portkey is just one of the many perks. During the celebrations of the fifteen-year-anniversary of the Second-Blood-War's end, the Gryffindor boys of Harry Potter's year at Hogwarts had decided that they would go to the famous entertainment city in the Nevadan dessert to spend a day gambling. When the plan which had been conducted with everyone in a less than sober state came out to their wives (though not that all five of them had tied the knot yet) the women had been far from pleased, which is why it took them nearly a year to put the plan into practice. They had saved up money slowly but surely and made promises about being responsible to keep the women in their lives from putting a stop to the trip and while they remained far from pleased they had grudgingly agreed to let them away for their brief moment of rowdy fun.

Harry and Seamus were the bachelors of the group. Harry had his reasons which were kept private, and Seamus just wasn't able to stay in a relationship, wanting too much and at the same time being unsure of what he wanted. Ron was not so unexpectedly married to Hermione, they'd been together ever since the day of the final battle, and though their relationship had its up and downs they were going strong. Dean was engaged to a muggle woman who shared his passion for art and Neville had gotten together with Hannah Abbot, one of their Hufflepuff year mates.

Now nearly a year later the trip has at last become reality and as some time had passed since the memorial day they were able to keep their celebration from being tinted by the memories of the horrors they had lived through, so as they sat by a Texas Hold'em table with drinks in hands, the things that they had all gone through at the end of the nineties were not on their minds. They laughed and enjoyed themselves, winning sometimes and losing a lot more often. Everything was fine until Seamus elbowed Harry in the side, pointing at a woman who had just walked into the large casino.

Harry wasn't all that impressed when turned to follow Seamus's direction and spotted her. Sure, she was beautiful with red-shimmering brown hair, curves in all the right places and large, dark eyes. It didn't matter though. It would take far more than a pretty face to interest him, especially considering the reason why he had not accepted or been persuaded to go on a single date since he was twenty-five.

"What?" he snapped at the sandy-haired man at his side, Seamus knew that he wasn't interested in dating.

"She was looking at me – at us!" said the Irishman excitedly.

"Ah," Harry said. Of course Harry had been notified because Seamus wanted to brag about being looked at by a beautiful woman. "Good for you," he said, "you should go for it."

Half a beat later a tall, dark haired, ruggedly handsome man walked up next to her. They exchanged a couple of words, making it clear that they at the very least belonged to the same social group and the arm he placed around her shoulders indicated that they were in fact a couple.

"Ouch," Harry muttered. "Looks like she's taken, mate." He gave Seamus a consoling pat on the shoulder.

"I don't know," he said, excitement still at a high level. "She's looking here again. I think she winked at me!"

"What are you two on about?" Dean inquired. Neville and Ron were also looking at them now, pausing the card game.

"Seamus spotted some girl, and no she didn't wink."

"Who?" asked Ron.

Harry nodded towards the woman and the man.

"She's nice," said the redhead appreciatively, letting his eyes rake down her form.

"You're married to my best friend!" scolded Harry.

"I thought I was your best friend!"

"You both are. So my point stands."

"There's no harm in looking."

"Right, I'll tell that to Hermione and then we'll see how the  _no harm_ goes for you."

"That's unfair!"

"Hey, you! Shut it!" Seamus interrupted their bickering. "She's coming here!"

She was. She was sauntering towards them at a hypnotising pace, hips swaying in a tantalizing manner drawing their eyes whether they wanted to look or not. "Good afternoon boys," she said showing off pearly white teeth in a quick smile. Her voice corresponded with her looks, it was velvety and smooth, trickling into their minds and reverberating there like chiming bells. It was almost...  _magical_. To an American she would sound as is she was from Britain but to Harry something about the lilt of her voice was strange, this along with the echo still resonating in his mind made him tense.

"Hello there, beautiful," said Seamus giving his most charming smile. "What can we do for you this fine day?"

"You can come with me. You can serve me." The strange echo in her voice gained in strength and Harry felt as if it was stroking something inside of him when she looked into his eyes, before she moved her gaze over to Neville.

"Of course," said Seamus, smile growing wider and Harry frowned, fighting to keep a clear head.

"What?" he said dumbly, but no one was listening to him, least of all the woman.

"Will you not do anything I ask?"

"We will," said Ron and Harry now knew that something truly suspicious was going on. He looked around at his friends. Seamus, Dean and Ron looked at the woman as if she was the embodiment of all their dreams. Neville, he was relieved to see, was frowning.

"What have you done to them?" Neville asked, right to the point.

She smiled sweetly and walked so that she could place a hand on Neville's arm. She traced her fingers from his shoulder down to his wrist here she touched his bare skin. "You wear a ring," she stated, looking at the golden wedding band on Neville's ring finger. "You are bound to a woman?"

"I am." Neville jutted out his jaw, showing that he was proud of his wife, that he would not trade Hannah away for another woman.

"Is she more important than me?" Her voice took on the same strange echo again and Harry's hand reached slowly towards his wand. He grabbed hold of the wood, taking comfort from the feel of its polished and slightly worn surface, but not acting yet.

"No, I care only for you," Neville said, all defiance gone, a dopey look of adoration having overtaken his face.

Harry rose from his seat, backing away. If there had been any doubt about it before it was gone now. She was using magic through her voice. And her touch seemed to enforce it; she could not be allowed to touch him. He longed to use his wand and do something about it, but here were too many witnesses. Perhaps he could draw her away from the Casino and do something in private. What she was doing didn't draw much attention, but a fight certainly would. To stop the temptation for now, he reluctantly put his wand away even knowing that it was probably a mistake.

"Grant!" called the woman.

"Yes?" said the man who had accompanied her, walking up next to her and staring down at Harry with a bland expression of disinterest.

"Restrain this man."

The tall mountain of muscles proceeded to follow the order but Harry was prepared. He may be feeling a bit out of it following the enchantment she was trying to cast over him and he may be a wizard who was more used to fighting by using magic rather than brawn, but he wasn't completely helpless. Being aware of what was going on was the first step to fighting back.

He shook his head to clear it of cobwebs and bent his knees, getting ready for the confrontation. He'd taken to learning basic self defence and a bit of martial arts, and the other man didn't know that. The element of surprise would be to his advantage.

Harry was able to dodge the first attack, swinging around and kicking out. His foot connected with the man's thigh, but did not do any damage. The second time the man knew that he would fight back and he was clearly more skilled at close combat. It only took half a moment before Harry was caught. With arms of steel holding him trapped from behind there wasn't much he could do. He tried head butting without success and trying to kick the man in the shin or elbow him in the gut was equally useless.

The woman walked up to him, smiling contently, while his friends were glaring at him from behind his back, questioning with their eyes how he ever could have come up with the idea of doing something that would displease Her.

The other people in the Casino were watching with cool detachment, though Harry noted that the women looked uncertain and were looking around trying to assess the situation. They were looking at the men as if they had all grown second heads, which they might as well have done as bizarrely as they were behaving.

"I like you," said the seductive woman, "you have the spirit of a warrior and there is something more to you as well."

"Yeah?" said Harry and since he had the opportunity he spat in her face, he didn't stand for people like her. What she was doing was equal to the Imperius Curse and would earn her lifetime in prison for all that he was concerned. "Well, I don't like you, and if you don't release my friends from whatever enchantment you've put them under you will regret it."

She brushed away the spittle from her cheek, the smile she had been wearing slipping off her face. "Aren't you precious," she sneered. "Soon you will be singing a very different tune." She reached out and touched his face, fingers dry and cool. "Will you not serve me?"

Harry could sense her charm reaching out to him. It was in her voice. It was strong. Far stronger than before. His defences were being gnawed at, but he had been under the Imperius Curse several times. He'd had Voldemort, one of the most powerful wizards known in history put him under the curse and he had not submitted. He had fought off the Imperious Curse and he could fight this too. He was stronger now then when he had been fourteen. He would not be hers. "No," he bit out, ignoring the mist that wanted to drown his independence.

"No," she repeated, looking stunned. "You say no."

"I take it that you are not used to rejection," he gasped.

Her face twisted, showing anguish for a brief second. "You will serve me!" she screamed, her nails digging into his cheek, biting and drawing blood. The power of her command increased. It became harder to resist. As he looked into her face her beauty was increasing steadily and he felt certain that she was everything he had ever wanted. It would be so easy to give in. He could be happy. Yes, she was what he had been searching for, the answer to his questions. He wouldn't have to stumble blindly anymore. He would have purpose.

" _No, she's not,"_  said a small voice in his mind, the same part of his conscious which had helped him overcome the Imperius Curse.  _"She is controlling you. She is not what you want. She is controlling you and your friends. Fight back!"_

"I will not!" he shouted. He was panting as if he'd just run a mile and he felt like it. It had taken that much out of him to resist her. "My mind is my own and no one will ever change that."

The woman looked at him with interest before she removed her hand from his face and backed up a couple of steps. "Pity," she said uncaringly, seemingly no longer caring that he wouldn't be her personal  _flying monkey_. "Then you'll have to be disposed of and I think your former friends will have the honour of doing it. Before your pitiful mortal life ends-"

"Mortal?" he questioned.

"So you are," she said.

"Asgard?" he queried, his mind working a mile a minute. It made sense.

"Oh, I forgot. You have had recent visits."

"We have." It had been a disaster. London invaded same as New York had been and people had looked to him to take care of it, but he and his Aurors weren't prepared for aliens and portals to other realms to lie in the sky like some strangely shaped clouds or UFO's. Luckily it had ended quickly and their department wasn't responsible for the clean up.

"It's no matter,  _mortal._  You will regret not serving me; you will regret not serving Lorelei."

"So that's your name, am I supposed to recognize it?"

"No, but the rest of this world soon will. Before long this world will be mine."

"If Loki couldn't do it, and the leader of the Dark Elf's failed, what makes you think you can?"

"It doesn't concern you. But I have my ways. Ways that men are too prideful to see or consider using. Grant, bring him up to our room."

"Of course, Lorelei," said the man who was keeping Harry contained. He began to walk Harry away and Harry counted to ten before he took his chance. Reaching out so that his fingers were touching Grant, even if it was just the fingertips, he channelled his magic ready to cast wandlessly.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted and he was free as the spell forced the man to let go of him. He whirled around, wand now back in his hand and sent a nonverbal stunning spell at the man, who evaded it by jumping to the side and rolling.

Lorelei looked on impassively.

"I keep my word," he said looking her in the eyes. "I'll use everything at my disposal to stop you and you will regret ever coming to this realm."

"Sorcery?" she questioned.

Harry glowered silently at her.

"Well then. You will get your fight, but you forget though that your friends are mine. Will you be able to hurt them? Stop him!"

"Ah, crap," Harry muttered as his four friends took out their wands.

"Stupefy!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Impedimenta!"

"Expelliarmus!" They all shouted spells at the same time and Harry had to dive behind the card table to avoid the spells.

"Reducto!" He heard Ron call and the table he had taken cover behind exploded into tiny pieces, a quick protego protecting him from the fragments and then he was off again, finding a pillar to hide behind. He hoped it might provide a bit better protection, being made of stone, though it was surely porous cement under the shiny granite surface.

He leaned out and sent a few spells to break up their formation, before ducking back into cover. The next time he looked around the pillar he quickly evaluated the situation. He should be able to handle it. It wasn't simply because he was the boy-who-lived that he had been given the position of Head Auror at the British Ministry of Magic while still being in his twenties. He had the skills to back it up.

He knew Ron's strengths. He would be the hardest to take out as he too knew Harry the best. Seamus and Dean were both brilliant wizards in their own right, but they didn't have years of combat training, they had practised to become good at what they did not at fighting. Neville had gone through Auror training with him and Ron and had been a part of the force until only four years back when he had taken up the position of Herbology Professor at Hogwarts when Pomona Sprout decided to retire, Harry would be wary of him too.

Then there was the muggle, Grant, who clearly shouldn't be underestimated. Harry had already determined that the man knew what he was doing in a combat situation. Lorelei was dangerous as well, but she seemed content to let others do her fighting for her, so for now she shouldn't pose a problem… hopefully.

Seeing Dean trying to sneak around to get him from behind, Harry leant out on the other side of the pillar and sent off a stunner. It missed, hitting a slot machine which exploded in a rain of sparks. The subsequent stunner he sent half a second later didn't miss though. His second stunner hit Dean who crumpled to the ground. Harry didn't have the time to see if his friend was okay, that the fall hadn't hurt him, because he had to duck back to avoid a flurry of curses as well as a few gun shots from the muggle.

It was then that he noticed what the other muggles in the casino were getting up to. The women looked more frightened than previously, someone had screamed as the gun was fired, but the men were slowly moving closer to him, trying to surround him and overtake him with their sheer numbers. Seeing a crack in the enclosing wall Harry cast a disillusionment charm on himself and hurried through it. He hoped that the near invisibility would give him an edge. He needed it.

He moved as silently as he could, but as he did this manoeuvre he had lost sight of the people he should have done his utmost to keep an eye on, and he cursed inwardly as he felt a wand against his jugular when he pressed up against a wall.

"You've always liked invisibility, Harry," Ron said in his ear. "I knew to look for it. And no surprise; as soon as you got an opportunity you used it. Don't do anything stupid now, and I won't have to hurt you."

"Oh, yeah?" he breathed out.

"Go the easy way, do as she says. I don't want to hurt you, mate. I really don't, but do not think that I will hesitate if you force me to."

"Well, you forget that I know you too. I'm sorry, Ron." Harry wasn't really restrained by Ron. The wand point was a threat not a bind and he used his wand to transfigure a piece of wood from the Texas Hold'em table into a large spider. The sight of the hairy creature with its many legs and eyes walking towards them had Ron let out a small shriek and that moment of distraction was all Harry needed to incapacitate him and move from his last known location, safe again as he remained near invisible.

He was able to knock Seamus out fairly easily after that, getting him from behind and moving again so that his location couldn't be pinpointed.

The two left standing were Neville and the muggle, both of which Harry was wary of. Neville had always been more level-headed in combat, knowing how to bide his time compared to Ron's brash moves. While the redhead was a good tactician he had never been able to implement it as well in practice. Harry noticed that Neville had remained standing more or less where he had started out, only having moved a bit to avoid Harry's first array of spells.

He edged slowly to the side, letting his eyes flicker everywhere to keep track of the muggle and Neville at the same time. He was getting distracted by how the females in the Casino were trying to make the men see sense; they were shouting and creating general pandemonium. This Lorelei must be rather powerful when it came to mind control if she could have that many people under her spell, but who on earth truly knew what people from other realms were capable of?

As he kept walking to the right, keeping his torso in Neville's direction, his foot caught on some debris and he fell. He knew that he was caught now, and in the same moment as he scrambled back to his feet Neville's first spell impacted right next to him.

He was about to retaliate when he noticed that Neville was moving quickly on his feet. If he tried to cast any spells he might hit the muggles, hurting them, which he didn't want to do, it meant that he was restricted to stunners, and even then a bad fall could hurt someone irreversibly, Neville likely knew this and in his current state of mind he wouldn't care about collateral damage meaning that he didn't have the same restrictions and could use that against Harry.

They traded spells, bright lights shooting through the air, magic crackling as curses fizzled out against shields and small explosions occurring as magic impacted on machines wired with electricity. Even while being cautious, and exhausted after having resisted Lorelei's control, Harry managed to hold his own, trying to create a larger parameter so that he could fight freely without hitting the muggles. He slowly herded them towards the edges of the room. If he could hold out long enough he would be able to win.

"Enough!" Lorelei called, her shrill cry making both Harry and Neville pause.

Harry, was able to snap out of his surprise and he tried to take advantage of that a beat later, and so they were back to trading spells. Stunner, body-binds, tickling hexes, disarming charms and other minor offensive spells flew from Harry's wand while more dangerous spells were sent his way. Bone-breaking curses, severing charms, gauging spells and so on.

"Stop or I'll have him kill himself."

Harry stumbled over his own feat. That was a legitimate threat.

Neville stopped too, and as Harry watched the Asgardian woman walked up to Neville, touching his cheek. "There is nothing you wouldn't do for me, is there?"

"Nothing," Neville said with a smile.

"Kill yourself?" Her sweet tone and large eyes with fluttering lashes sickened Harry.

"If that is what you wish."

"Neville, no," Harry tried feebly. He sent a cutting curse directly at Lorelei, it only created a scratch. In the same moment a pistol was fired. The muggle, Grant had showed up from behind a pillar, right in front of Harry and as he was concentrated on the woman who was coercing his friend into committing suicide, the man had shot him, right in the head.

Harry's jaw went slack, his fingers loosened their grip around his wand which fell to the floor and then he fell to his knees next to it. He slumped over, eyes unseeing in death.

"Bring him up to our room. He might not have been of use to me, but he does deserve better than to be left here."

Grant nodded in affirmative and moved to do as told.

"Wake your friends," she told Neville. "I think you have a lot to tell me about your abilities and their applications."

"Immediately, my Lady."


	2. The Dead Wizard

Sif kicked open the door to the hotel suite and went inside, flanked by the Son of Coul and the group of soldiers under the man's command. It only took one look to see that the room was abandoned and frustration brewed within her. She had foolishly hoped that they would be able to catch up to Lorelei. She should have known better.

Coulson and his team called out an all clear, but she continued to search the area. They may be competent, but she knew Lorelei in a way that they did not and she might be able to see something they had missed, some small detail that would give her an idea of what the sorceress was planning.

They had come to this particular Casino and Hotel because one of Coulson's team had been able to identify Lorelei in the surveillance footage. Though only for a brief moment. Nearly all of it had been deleted in a crude but efficient manner. From the footage they knew that Lorelei and Grant Ward had been there, but nothing more.

Following their arrival they had searched the Casino Room where Lorelei had been seen approaching a group of men sitting by one of the gaming tables, Agent Grant Ward at her side. They had found traces of a fight that had happened in the hall. It had been nearly impossible to see it, everything was cleaned up and repaired apart from a single bullet hole, a couple of scorch marks in dark corners and a few dysfunctional slot machines.

The surveillance had shown that at the start of the confrontation the Casino had been filled with guests, but none of them had been able to tell them anything. They didn't remember anything amiss. As far as they could tell the day had followed a completely normal pattern of gambling, drinking and leisure. People who had been in other parts of the Casino at the time of the damaged recording were however able to remember that they had heard noises that might have been gunfire and explosions. The contradicting state of the testimonies was peculiar. Lorelei had never before showcased abilities linked to memories. If only the men had been affected Sif could have concluded that they weren't speaking because of the thrall demanding their loyalty, but all the women were affected as well. How it had come to pass Sif could not say, she only knew that it did not bode well.

She moved into the bedroom and wrinkled her nose as she was hit by a wall of repugnant air, reeking with the smell of coupling and then she registered a more subtle smell, the smell of blood. On the bed lay a figure. She moved closer, her hand moving towards the hilt of her sword, seeking the safety it provided, it was a move that was so ingrained in her psyche that it was unconscious. Almost as soon as she'd begun to reach for her weapon, her hand dropped back to her side. The figure was no threat. He was dead.

He was one of the men whom Lorelei had approached in the Casino before the recordings ended. He had a crude stake through his chest, one end sticking out well above his body, the other seemingly disappearing out his back and into the bed. Judging by the chair missing a leg next to the bed that's where it had come from. The sheets were drenched in blood. It was a gruesome sight, one that would have made a less hardened person blanche, but Sif regarded it with clinical detachment, trying to understand what had happened before the man's death.

There were no signs of a fight having happened in the room. The man had been brought there before being staked as the blood was contained to the linens of the bed. He had been fighting beforehand however. His clothes were torn in several places, and they had scorch marks. One wound besides the stake that had impaled him stood out. On the side of his brow there was a circle of blood around a hole, a bullet having passed through the flesh and bone.

Coulson came in behind her, his hand over his mouth and nose as he tried to ward off the smell. "What happened here?"

"I cannot say exactly what passed." She leaned over the man on the bed, looking closer at his face. He was handsome, well groomed and strong, just the type of man Lorelei favoured. "Whatever happened he is yet another of Lorelei's victims. If I have anything to say about it he'll be her last," she said in a level voice, letting no trace of emotion through. It didn't bear to think about all the people this man had left behind who would mourn him the same way she had mourned the last time Lorelei was free. Besides, Sif wasn't one for sentimentalities; she was a warrior, one of Asgard's finest.

"We'll stop her," Coulson said.

"We must. The longer she is allowed to roam free the more men she will amass under her command, from there it will escalate quickly. She'll paint the earth red with blood on her way to power if she is allowed. It is of essence that we act quickly. Even with the collar damaged we have to try to contain her." It angered her that the collar she had brought, the collar with enchantments that would cage Lorelei's powers of persuasion had been damaged, but it did not mean that the hunt could stop.

"I agree. We will do whatever we can to keep her from doing further harm." Coulson came to stand next to her, looking at the dead man on the bed. "From how you have describe Lorelei he looks like the sort of man she would enjoy controlling. Why would she kill him?"

"I do not know why she would have killed him. Perhaps he was one of the few who could resist the thrall of her voice. If he fought back he might have ended up getting killed before she was able to reinforce her control with her touch."

"We'll never know for certain." Coulson turned to the people under his command. "Prepare him for transport, perhaps we can learn more from his body." His orders were followed but the two of them remained by the man's side. "It is curious that they would stake him," the Son of Coul said.

"Yes," Sif agreed. "No being on Midgard that I know of should require such a precaution."

"There are begins you have to stake to keep them down?"

"Some enhanced by sorcery have to have their hearts destroyed, yes."

Sif leaned in over the man, trying to see what there was about him that had required such drastic actions. He was pale in death, nothing unexpected. She inspected the bullet wound and was taken aback. She knew that there had been a deep wound there only moments before. Now the wound was gone. Beneath the blood there was only smooth skin. Curious and cautious, she lightly touched the spot with her fingers. There was a twitch in his eyelid. The man opened his eyes. They were brilliantly green. They locked gazes for a long second, something like mutual understanding passing between them, but the moment was broken before Sif could say anything for sure and she jumped back as her reflexes demanded, her sword in her hand.

"God," Coulson murmured as the man – the dead man – drew in a deep, shuddering breath and sat up gingerly, looking down at his chest.

"Merlin," he lamented, with a pained groan, "that's  _so_  not good. Why would they do that? As if I was a vampire in a B-movie. Bloody psychotic woman." He collapsed back onto the bed carelessly, emitting another pained grunt as the stake in his chest was jostled. He stared up at the ceiling and spoke to them with unshed tears in his eyes. "Could someone please remove the... whatever it is, from my chest?"

"We need a medical team in here!" Coulson shouted.

"No, no, no medical team," said the man, his voice a hoarse croak. "The fewer people involved in this the better. I'll be fine on my own. I'll just need some sleep once it's removed." He tilted his head up again, the motion causing an expression of pain to flicker over his face. "I don't expect an agent to listen, they never do," he said looking Sif in the eye, the connection she had briefly felt when they first locked eyes rekindling, instilling something akin to trust as kinship was recognized, "but you, my Lady, are not one of them. You've seen fantastical things. You can believe me when I tell you that doing as I ask will bring me no harm. Please remove the stake."

Sif was a bit surprised that the man seemed to know something about her identity and for once the surprise showed on her face.

"Please," he repeated; his voice calm though still very hoarse.

It was the calm he radiated that made her comply. She nodded and grabbed the protruding end of the former chair leg. With a quick pull she had removed it. He didn't scream as she did it, though his face betrayed the intense pain he was in and she winced slightly in sympathy. It had to hurt badly. Blood immediately began to ooze out of the open wound.

"Thank you," he said, capturing her attention again. The same connection as the previous two times surging. Sif frowned at it, not understanding what she was feeling, never having experienced something similar. Before she could pursue the sensation further he had turned his gaze away, looking down at his own chest. "That can't be pretty," he muttered, before his eyes closed once more and his body turned slack.

She moved, swift as a wind, to put pressure on the wound, trying to keep the blood inside his body, not at all concerned about how her hands got covered in the sticky, warm liquid. "I hope you won't make me regret doing as you asked," Sif whispered to his still form, listening intently to keep track of his heartbeat and breathing.

"Lady Sif," Coulson said sounding perturbed by her actions, "that may not have been the best move. We could use him alive, to see what he knows, now he may bleed out."

"He will not," she stated with more surety than she felt. The blood that covered her hands told its own tale. It might have been foolish to take the words of a severely injured man as fact. By doing so she may have condemned him to death. But he had already been dead. There had been no signs of life when they found him. She hadn't heard him breath, she hadn't heard a pulse. And now there were both. Weak, irregular heartbeats, shallow shuddering breaths they may have been, but they were there and help was coming. "There is more to this man than meets the eye. He was dead, now he is not. I do not think we need to worry about him bleeding out."

The Son of Coul gave her a look. "Let's hope that you are correct."

Sif could only remember what happened next as a series of bright images. They had moved quickly, putting the man on a stretcher and bringing him back to the flying boat that served as the base for Coulson's team. She stayed by the man's side, there were only her hands to keep pressure on the wound. She vaguely noticed how less blood was spilling out, proving that she might be correct in her assessment that they would not need to worry about the man's health, that he would heal as he had claimed.

Her thoughts were busy as her body performed the menial tasks necessary. She tried to understand how he could be alive. What he could be. He looked human, outside and inside too from what she had seen. He could be a mortal sorcerer, that was the best guess she could make. Some had existed when Asgard used to have more regular contact with Midgard. A small percentage of the population exhibited abilities geared towards manipulation of energy in all the forms it could take. To conclude that humans still possessed the ability did not seem farfetched, but to believe that their control, that their knowledge had increased to a degree where they could come back from death, that seemed to be outside the realm of possibility.

Then there was the slight connection she had felt each time their eyes met. She didn't have any words for it. It felt as if he'd seen her. Truly seen her. She could be imagining things. If it happened again the next time she would investigate, otherwise she would let it go. Stopping Lorelei, and learning how the man could play a part in that was the more pressing concern.

Sif was drawn back to the present as they entered the healing facilities aboard the flying boat, once more feeling one end of the stretcher in her hands and the tug from the other end as Agent May miscalculated ever so slightly on how fast they were moving.

"Sir!" the scientist and healer called Simmons on Coulson's team exclaimed. "What is this?"

"He needs immediate medical attention," Coulson told the healer, "his condition is critical."

The young woman was momentarily frozen, brown eyes wide, then she visibly collected herself. "Right away. We need to bring him inside here, so I can get to work on him. Sky, you have to get up."

"What's going on?" a dark haired woman was seated on the bed inside a small chamber which Sif could tell was used for healing. "Oh, my god," she gasped seeing the man they were carrying. "Should I just pull of these?" she gestured to cables which were attached to her hands.

"Yes," Simmons answered, "it's okay. Quickly please."

"Okay." The woman moved away, ripping the cables away and as the bed was emptied Sif moved the man with the help of Agent May.

"Can we help with anything?" asked Sif.

"Right now you would actually be in the way," Simmons answered distractedly, already at work. The Asgardian nodded, knowing better than to interfere with a healer's work. She moved outside the room, seeing tense faces and the other scientist at work.

"Facial recognition is running now," Fitz informed Coulson.

"Good. Let's see who he is. "

Sif turned her eyes to the large screen, watching the numbers next to an image of the injured man. Though she longed to clean up, not enjoying the dried blood that still stained her skin of her hands and her wrist guards; she stayed, wanting to know the identity of the man whom the blood belonged to.

"There we go," Fitz said. Another image of the man's face appeared, one where he was awake, healthy, looking right ahead, blank expression. Beside it stood some basic information. His name was Harry James Potter.

"Is that all the information on him?" Coulson demanded.

"Let me see. Yes it appears so. Wait." A command window opened up.  _LEVEL 10 ACCESS_

"What does it mean?" she asked, unfamiliar with the system.

"It means that you were correct in saying that there is more to him than meets the eye," Coulson answered her. "Sky?"

"Yeah?" the young woman who had been in the healing facility said.

"Can you get through the encryption?"

"What?"

"Can you do it?"

"Yes, I think I can, but, really, AC? You think we should do that? You're asking me to hack SHIELD files that only the Director are allowed to access?" the girl asked incredulously.

"I'm not asking. I'm ordering you to do it."

"Right," she said with an eye roll. "I'll get on it." She took her information device and got comfortable by a desk. Sif didn't question it. Sometimes the rules had to be broken. She trusted Coulson to know when to break the rules, same as she had trusted Thor when Odin decreed that no one was to leave Asgard during the recent conflict with the Dark Elves. Yet sometimes there were side options available. "How about the man's companions?" she asked.

"Good point," Coulson gave her a nod. "Fitz, look them up."

"Sure. Let's see. I only have usable images of two of them, but at least it's a start."

"Go for it."

"Sir!" Simmons was sticking her head out the door.

"What?"

She held up a bloodied bullet in a pair of pincers. "Our patient-"

"Harry Potter," Fitz interrupted her without looking up from where he was typing.

"Potter," she amended as she was presented with his name, "has been shot at the back of his head."

"No," Sif said, interrupting the woman. "Not form the back. He was shot from the front."

"But there's no wound on the front."

"Because it healed."

"That's..!" She sounded like she was about to protest but stopped herself. "Oh, well. I suppose that makes sense considering. And I suppose his healing rate will not come as a surprise either. What I thought was the entry wound of the bullet, which I discovered at all when the bullet fell out, has healed up. The only sign that there was a wound to begin with is that the hair growth on the spot is shorter than the surrounding, but the hair actually seems to know what length it's supposed to be to fit with his haircut. It's bizarre. And the wound in his chest. It's horrific. What even caused it?"

"A wooden stake," Sif answered succinctly.

"Oh, okay." Simmons made a face. "Anyway what I was about to say was that I hadn't noticed the bullet wound since I was, to put it in plain English, freaking out over the wound in his chest. It's horrific! Who stakes anyone?"

The group of people looked to Sif, who sighed without making any sound. "If Harry Potter showed remarkable healing she might have done it to be certain of his death. Some enhancements are known to not hold if the heart is severely damaged as I told Coulson when we found him."

"So even from your perspective he should be dead?"

"Yes."

"Simmons, what have you discovered?" Coulson asked, and Sif understood that he was tired of asides and wanted the healer to get to the point.

"My point seems to have been made long ago," the young woman said. "He is healing at a rate unlike anything I've ever seen. Bone, tissue, skin, hair, it's all coming back without any scarring. The healing in his body is far more potent, far faster than what the GH-325 managed. I've taken a DNA sample but I've not yet had the time to have a look at it, I don't understand what he is. This is beyond human."

"How are you doing Skye?" Coulson asked, a new strain in his voice that Sif wouldn't have heard if she weren't as old as she was and had dealt with a lot of people skilled at hiding their emotions. "We could really use some information about our guest. The sooner the better."

"Just a moment longer, these encryptions are some of the best out there." The dark-haired, young woman tapped away at the keyboard of her device. "But I'm better." She tapped one last key and the display Fitz had been working on changed to show an identification photo of the man who was healing in the next room.

"This can't be real," the scientist said after having breezed through the text next to the photo. "It says that magic is real. That he is a wizard. That he's the head of the Magical Police's Special Forces in Britain. That he was awarded the  _Order of Merlin, First Class_  in 1998."

"So it does," Coulson agreed. "Lady Sif, are you familiar with any of this?"

She frowned. "I was aware that sorcery existed on Midgard, yes," she said. "We have however not had contact with them for a long time, even measured by us. I was not certain that they still existed, but I suspected that Harry Potter might be one of them, it might be how he has been able to heal."

"And are they generally able to survive wounds such as Potter has sustained?"

"No," this time the answer was surer. "Though I could not say for sure. As I've said we've not had contact with them for a long time. Generations have passed for them and they could have made progress in understanding their abilities that could make this possible, yet I know of no being that would survive having both the brain and the heart pierced at the same time."

"His heart was pierced?" Simmons asked. "I couldn't see that, his heart looked fine."

"Trust me when I say that it wasn't when I removed the stake."

Fitz pulled up the files for the other men who had been in the casino, the facial recognition having continued running in the background. "They're all wizards," he muttered. "Or at least these two are, it's likely that the other two are as well. "Dean Thomas; lead artist at  _The Daily Prophet_ and Ronald Weasley; Harry Potter's second in command in the  _Auror Force_  – their name for the higher branches of law enforcement."

"I can't believe it, magic exists, it's incomprehensible, it doesn't compute with anything we know. It refutes all logic," Simmons babbled. "Magic really exists!"

"We don't know that!" Fitz remarked, equally upset. "It might just be strange abilities found in some small percentage of the population, and not knowing any better they call it magic. We know that what the people of Asgard," he gestured to Sif, "call some energy manipulation sorcery and magic is really just advanced science."

She nodded. It was true. Magic, the way primal societies envisioned it, was only a way of labelling, of explaining that which they could not yet understand.

"They have a completely hidden society!"

"That doesn't prove that it's magic, Jemma! Sir," he turned to Coulson, "this is big. We shouldn't know about it, but now that we do, I think you should permit Skye to keep digging. Seeing the profiles of a few individuals will not have us ready to fight them. I don't like breaking the rules, but I think it's necessary in this case."

"I agree." The group of people turned around to face the speaker, it shouldn't be possible, but the man they had seen with a hole in his chest was up on his feet and his bare torso showed barely a scratch under the smudges of blood. "You need to know what is going on. I'll tell you what you need to know."

"You're an impossibility!" Simmons was the first to speak, though it was more of a squeak.

"I've heard that one before," the man said with a crooked smile. "And I hear that I'm not completely at the mercy of yanks, good to know. Would it be possible for me to get something to eat? Something rich in iron? And a lot of water?"

"Eh," the healer said.

Everyone was floundering; Sif looked at the man trying to puzzle him out. She didn't understand how he could be up already, but she was glad that he was well, that trusting him when he told her to remove the stake hadn't been the wrong decision.

"We have questions," Coulson interrupted and Harry Potter turned to him.

"As I said, I'll be happy to tell you what you need to know. Food first though, if you please. I will be of little use to you if I faint and it does my pride no good should I collapse." Here he smiled charmingly again.

"May," Coulson said, her name a command.

"I'll get it," the battle trained woman, the warrior said, face impassive as she walked away up the stairs from the plane's laboratory.

"Thank you." The injured man smiled again. "Now as I see you already know, my name is Harry Potter and I am a wizard."

"What does that mean?" Simmons asked. "What is a wizard?"

"I couldn't give you a scientific explanation even if I tried. We have been trying to understand magic for centuries and we still don't know much about what it is or how we can do it. What we know is what we can do and what we cannot."

"And what can you do?" Coulson asked.

"Nearly anything given the right motivation, the resources and the time."

"Great, that's just what I wanted to hear, and now Lorelei has four of you under her command along with one of mine."

The wizard grimaced. "Yes, I imagine that this isn't good news for you. Most wizards and witches don't use their powers for anything bad. We use magic as a tool in everyday life, creating wonderful things, making chores easier. Then there are those who use it to control others, to seek power to hurt. That's why I have a job. Any witch or wizard does however have the power to cause great destruction. They'll need to be stopped."

"How?"

"I don't know. They'll go down like any other human, force, stunners, but they're not themselves, we can't kill them. We need to get to Lorelei."

"Fitz, how is the collar coming?"

"Oh, eh, yes I repaired it."

"Let me see it," Sif demanded. "I need to make sure."

"Yeah, of course, but I think you'll find it in perfect shape."

"This collar will stop her?" Harry Potter asked.

"Yes, it neutralizes her powers, everyone under her thrall will be freed."

"Then that's what we need to do." Though the wizard had been speaking with a steady, commanding voice his legs suddenly buckled under him. Sif moved to catch him.

"Are you alright, Harry Potter?" she asked.

"With you here I don't think I could be anything else, my own beautiful knight in shining armour," he murmured, looking into her eyes again and despite herself Sif blushed.

"That's not…" she began to say, but cut herself off as she realized that he had fallen unconscious. She could feel stares on her so she hoisted the wizard up in her arms and took him back to the healing room without further comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 28th April 2015
> 
> Hello, dear readers! I'm thrilled to see that there are so many of you already. I hope you enjoyed this second chapter. Also, my apologies for taking so long with this chapter. It would have been ready sooner if my beta hadn't become unavailable, but I hope that not having to put up with my rudimentary mistakes made up for the wait.
> 
> Some of you expressed concern with Harry making too many mistakes in the fight of Chapter One. It will be explained, promise, it happened for a reason.


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